


I can't seem to breathe with a rusted metal heart

by AbhorrentSelkie



Series: The Kids Aren't Alright [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, I still suck at summeries, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Sylvain and Miklan are sad boys, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:20:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23742187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbhorrentSelkie/pseuds/AbhorrentSelkie
Summary: Miklan glanced over and offered a small, uninterested wave before Sylvain sat the computer back down. Felix was staring at him blankly. “You’re a dumb ***.”“Yup.”“Your dad’s going to kill you if he finds out.”“Yup.”“Tch. Your funeral.”______When Miklan calls asking for a favor, Sylvain agrees despite his better judgement. His brother's return to his life after two years forces Sylvain to confront the feelings he'd rather have kept buried.
Relationships: One-Sided Sylvain Jose Gautier/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Past Glenn/Miklan
Series: The Kids Aren't Alright [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719820
Comments: 3
Kudos: 76





	1. It's not the last time 'cause I'd never say no to you

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to apologize in advance to anyone who may be named Karen for my use of the Karen meme in, like, the first sentence. I know several lovely Karens, I just think it's a funny meme, and the joke is a nod to a friend who will never read this.
> 
> The title is from Piano Fire by Sparklehorse. Not for any particular reason, the song was just playing when I started writing this, and the line came to mind when I was drawing a blank trying to think of a name.

Sylvain seethed, hands tight on the steering wheel as the soft, robotic voice of his phone’s map app – affectionately named Karen for her habit of being a difficult bitch at the worst times – directed him to his destination. Honestly, he brought this upon himself. No one forced him to leave practice early. _Come on, bro, help me out._ No one forced him to answer the call. _Before you hang up, Syl, just hear me out_.

Sylvain hissed out a sigh as he pulled into a parking spot outside the squat, no-nonsense police department building. He snatched his phone off the passenger seat as Karen oh-so-helpfully announced that he’d arrived at his destination and sent a quick text. _I’m here. Hurry up._

He dropped the phone in the cup holder and slumped back into his seat to wait. A few minutes passed, Sylvain drumming his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, before he saw the expected head of fiery hair as a man pushed his way out of the building. The man glanced around for a moment, eyes squinting in the afternoon sun. Sylvain rolled his eyes and flashed his headlights until it caught the man’s attention.

Miklan climbed into the passenger seat a moment later, grinning broadly despite his brother’s deep scowl. It had been a hot minute since they’d last seen each other, but that time had not particularly kind to Miklan. The man might have been handsome, once; they had the same slender, boyish face, but Miklan had always had an unfortunate case of resting bitch face. The gnarly, puckered scar that crossed the bridge of Miklan’s nose now certainly didn’t help. “Hey, man, thanks for coming.”

Sylvain started pulling out. “Whatever.” Miklan didn’t seem deterred, inviting himself to fiddle with the radio. They drove in silence, save for the light hum of some metal station Miklan settled on, for a while before curiosity got the better of him. “So, what was it this time?”

“Just got caught with some pot,” Miklan said, tone dismissive. “Oh, don’t give me that look. You used to smoke with me all the time.”

“Used to. Not anymore.”

“Ooh, look at little Sylvie,” Miklan mocked, “so much better than me.”

“Shut up. It’s not my fault you make shit decisions.”

“You really want to do this?” Sylvain glanced over, just for a moment. “We haven’t seen each other in, like, two years. Five minutes together, and you’re already up my ass. You sound like dad.”

“Fuck off.” Anger welled in Sylvain’s stomach. He’d hadn’t expected anything different, but it was easy to forget just how infuriating his brother could be. “I didn’t _have_ to come, you know. Next time, you can fucking walk.”

Miklan laughed, digging a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. “Naughty, naughty Sylvain,” he scolded. “You kiss Mother with that mouth?”

“Man, don’t smoke in here,” Sylvain huffed, but Miklan had already rolled down the window and lit the cigarette. “Ugh, you’re the worst.” Miklan just chuckled, and Sylvain resigned to just getting the drive over as fast as possible. “How’d you make bail, anyway? You said you didn’t even have enough cash to get a cab.”

“Ah, they didn't set a bail. I’ve got a court date in, like a month.”

“Really? They just let you go?” Miklan arched an eyebrow, taking a long drag of his cigarette. Ash littered the side of the door, and Sylvain tried not to let it bother him. “It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve been arrested.”

“Man, fuck you,” Miklan snapped. “It was just a little pot. It’s a misdemeanor at worst, and I’ve never missed a court date.”

“Right. Hey, how do I get to your apartment from here?” Miklan didn’t answer, busied himself with another long drag. “Come on, man. I don’t know where to go.”

“About that…” Sylvain groaned. “I was crashing at a buddy’s place for a while, ‘til I could find a place, but, uh. Well, when we got picked up he had a _bit_ more than pot on him.” Of course. Because things couldn’t just _work_ for Sylvain. “So, I kinda need another favor.”

“No.”

“Come on, Syl-”

“ _No_. Dad will _kill_ me if he finds out.”

“He won’t find out!”

“No.”

Miklan was staring at him, more serious than Sylvain had ever seen him. “Please, Sylvain. Just for a couple days. Mom and Dad will never know I was there. Come on, man.”

Sylvain hated that he was going to agree. Really, he didn't have a very good reason _not_ to. He hated that, no matter how Miklan fucked up, he couldn’t just turn his back on him. Not the way Dad had… “Three days,” he sighed. “That’s all you get. If you can’t find somewhere else to stay by then, that’s your problem.”

Miklan grinned wide, shoving Sylvain playfully on the shoulder hard enough that the car swerved slightly, earning him an angry honk from a passing pickup truck. “Anyone ever tell you you’re the best brother ever?”

“You sure as hell haven’t.”

“Well, I should.” He didn’t.

Miklan chatted absently, needing very little feedback from his brother to continue talking about the various odd jobs he’d been doing, concerts he’d gone to, and – much to Sylvain’s annoyance – hookups he’d had.

He was saved by his phone ringing. Miklan snatched it up before Sylvain could. “Who’s Crystal (Small Tits)?” he laughed. “And does she know that’s what you’ve got her name saved as?”

“I know, like, five Crystals,” Sylvain huffed, yanking the phone out of his brother’s hand. “And, no, _obviously_ she doesn’t know. Shut up.” He answered. “Hey, baby, what’s up?”

“Sylvie,” she cooed. “Hilda just told me you had to leave practice early. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, babe, I’m fine.”

“So, we’re still on for tonight?”

 _Fuck_. He’d forgotten, with everything going on. “Shit, babe. Gonna have to take a rain check on that. A… family emergency popped up.”

“Uh-huh.” Crap, he knew that tone. “The same kind of ‘family emergency’ as last month, when you went to Ferdie’s party, got drunk, and made out with Dorothea?”

“No,” he protested. “A real one.”

“Whatever,” she huffed. “Screw your rain check, and screw you.”

“Baby, don’t be like that-” She hung up. “Ugh.” He threw the phone back into the cup holder, scowling at the road.

“What was that about?”

“Well, I _was_ going to have a girl over tonight, but _that’s_ not happening now, so thanks for that.”

Miklan rolled his eyes. “Aw, poor Sylvie, can’t get his dick wet for a few days. How will you survive?”

He didn’t dignify that with a response, just turned up the radio and let the loud metal drown out the possibility of conversation. It was a long twenty minutes before he was pulling into the driveway of their parents’ upper-class suburban home.

Miklan’s jaw was tight as he followed Sylvain inside. It had been three years since their father had kicked Miklan out following his third arrest in as many years. Very little had changed, but his eyes fell immediately on the thing that had changed the most. The photos that adorned the mantle in the den.

Once upon a time, they had told the fictional story of a happy family of four. A stern, but loving father with neatly groomed red hair; his beautiful, smiling wife; and their two happy children, both the spitting image of their father, at various points in their lives.

Now, they told a different, equally fictional story of a happy family of three. A stern, but loving father with neatly groomed red hair, streaked through with gray; his beautiful, smiling wife, long auburn hair professionally died to cover up the signs of age; and their one happy teenage son.

After Miklan was kicked out, they had removed all traces of his existence from the photos throughout the house. Any photos from Sylvain’s childhood were those that held no evidence of his brother. The mantle even housed a couple of Sylvain’s lacrosse trophies.

Miklan, to his credit, looked mostly unfazed, but something in his eyes had changed. The realization that he’d been entirely cut out from his family’s lives must have stung more than he was willing to let on. Sylvain contemplated telling him that the photos still existed, tucked away in their mother’s safe-keeping box in the attic; he’d caught her looking through them in secret before, crying silently. But, it wouldn’t have made Miklan feel better, so he held his tongue.

They stopped in the kitchen long enough to grab snacks and drinks. If their mother noticed how much was missing, he doubted she would be concerned; her son was almost eighteen and an athlete. He ate a lot. They headed upstairs to Sylvain’s bedroom.

“Don’t make a mess,” Sylvain warned his brother as the man flopped down on the second-hand sofa that sat against the wall by the TV. “I’m not a slob like you, and if you trash my room, I’m throwing your ass out.”

“Yes, sir,” Miklan laughed, already turning on the TV.

“And use the guest accounts on Netflix and Hulu.” Miklan opened his mouth, but Sylvain cut him off. “No, I’m not giving you the passwords.”

“Killjoy.”

“Freeloader.”

Trying his best to put Miklan out of his mind, to convince himself that their parents would never know he was there, Sylvain sat down at his desk and pulled his laptop out of his backpack. He had a mountain of homework to do, and leaving practice early at least gave him some extra time to work on it.

“Ooh, still a little nerd, I see,” Miklan teased from the couch. Sylvain flipped him off over his shoulder. “Perfect little Sylvie-wylvie. Bet you’ve still got all As.”

“That’s not an insult, dude. Not all of us want to be high school drop-outs.” He regretted the words as soon as they passed his lips and glanced back at his brother. Miklan was scowling pointedly at the TV and Sylvain sighed.

It was true; Miklan dropped out practically the second he turned eighteen, much to their parents’ disappointment. The way he saw it, he’d never done well in school and he wasn’t on track to graduate, so what was the point? Sylvain, on the other hand, flourished in school. By the time Sylvain was in second grade, he was helping Miklan with his homework. By sixth grade, he was writing the outlines for most of Miklan’s essays, and editing his spelling and grammar. Miklan’s struggles finally made more sense when he was diagnosed with dyslexia and ADHD in his freshman year, but by that point, the damage was done; Miklan had already resigned to the idea that he was just stupid and lazy, like Dad always said.

Sylvain ran a hand through his hair. “Look, man, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“Whatever.”

“It’s just… I’ve got a scholarship riding on my GPA. I was accepted to the University of Almyra.”

“Oh, yeah, keep rubbing it in, that’ll make me feel better.”

“I’m not rubbing it in,” Sylvain snapped, spinning around in his chair. “U of A is my dream school, but Dad wants me to go to Fhirdiad U, like he did. That scholarship is my ticket out of here.”

“Oh, because your life’s so horrible?” Miklan finally met his eyes. “Must be so hard, being the favorite child since the second you were born.”

Sylvain glared at him. “Oh, you wanna start _this_ pissing contest again?" He dropped his voice to a mockery of his brother's. "‘Sylvie’s life is so perfect, Dad beat him less than he beat me.’” Miklan dropped his gaze to his lap. “I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t exactly keeping score, Miklan. All I know is that it sucks, and as soon as I graduate, I’m getting out of here.”

Miklan seemed like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t decide what. Sylvain just shook his head and turned back to his homework and the brothers fell back into a tense, uncomfortable silence.

The silence was broken by the familiar chime of an incoming Facebook video call. Felix. “Pause your show for a bit,” Sylvain called over his shoulder. The sound of whatever Miklan was watched cut off abruptly and Sylvain answered the call. “Hey, man.”

“Heard you got dumped again,” Felix taunted him without preamble, the hint of a smirk tugging his lips up.

“How-”

“Hilda.” Of course, the pink-haired menace was an incorrigible gossip. “What did you do this time?”

“I asked for a rain check on our date because something came up at home, and she assumed I was going to cheat on her.”

“Again.”

“Dude, I was drunk.”

“Sure,” Felix allowed, “ _that_ time.”

“Fuck off.”

“You’re just mad because it’s true.” Sylvain rolled his eyes. “Maybe if you weren’t such a fuckboy, girls wouldn’t assume you’re lying.”

“I’m not a fuckboy,” Sylvain protested.

“Would you prefer slut?”

“Asshole.”

“So, what’s this thing that came up at home?” Felix wondered, still smirking a little to himself. “I thought your parents were out of town for that wedding or whatever.”

Sylvain glanced over his shoulder; he hadn’t told Miklan that, though obviously, his brother would have figured out something was up sooner or later. “Yeah, they are…” Felix arched an eyebrow. “It’s… Well, I guess just see for yourself.” He picked up his laptop and pointed the screen over toward the sofa. Miklan glanced over and offered a small, uninterested wave before Sylvain sat the computer back down.

Felix was staring at him blankly. “You’re a dumb ass.”

“Yup.”

“Your dad’s going to kill you if he finds out.”

“Yup.”

“Tch. Your funeral.”

“You’re such a supportive friend, Felix.”

“So, does this change game night?”

Sylvain considered this, rubbing the back of his neck roughly. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he didn’t want to leave Miklan alone in the house too long. He would already have to leave him while he was at school, and he was on the fence about skipping another practice. “Would you hate coming here instead of having it at your place this week?”

“Fine,” Felix huffed as if it was the biggest inconvenience in the world. “But you’re paying for the pizza.”

“Deal.” Felix ended the call without saying goodbye and Sylvain slumped back in his chair, waiting for what he already knew was coming.

“You didn’t say Mom and Dad were out of town.”

“I know.”

“Let me guess, three days?”

“Yup. They’ll be back some time Monday afternoon.”

“So, two questions.”

“Shoot.”

“First: why the hell am I crashing in your room if they’re not even going to be here?”

Sylvain spun around to face him. Miklan looked amused but exasperated, rather than angry like he’d been worried about. “You know Dad always checks every room when they get back from a trip,” Sylvain reminded him. The man trusted Sylvain enough to leave him alone for a weekend, but Goddess help him if he didn't give the house a thorough inspection the second he walked through the door. “If _anything_ is out of place anywhere else in the house, he’ll know, and I really don’t want to have to deal with that.”

“Fair enough,” Miklan allowed. “Second: you hit that yet?” Sylvain stared, brow furrowed, until Miklan nodded his head toward the laptop.

For the first time in a very long time, Sylvain flushed as Miklan’s words clicked. Miklan grinned like a wolf staring down a plump little rabbit and Sylvain turned away. “Dude, he’s my best friend.”

“Alright, I hear you.” He could hear the smile in Miklan’s voice. “Dad would have kicked me out a lot sooner if he thought I was gay.”

“You _are_ gay.”

“Yeah, but Dad doesn’t _think_ I am.”

Sylvain’s stomach churned as he tried to push the unwanted thoughts away. “What makes you think I want to fuck Felix?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking, now that his back was turned and his brother couldn’t see his face.

“Please,” Miklan scoffed. “I’ve _met_ you. You’ve always mooned over him, and you’ve never been subtle about checking out his ass.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered.

Miklan howled with laughter. “Keep telling yourself that, Syl. I told myself the same thing about Glenn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title: Dead on Arrival by Fall Out Boy


	2. Said I couldn't love someone 'cause I might break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One small thing that I realized I didn't explicitly state in the story, that would have kind of uncomfortable implications otherwise. The ages of the characters aren't consistent with canon. Instead, Sylvain is about the same age as Felix, Dimitri, and Ingrid. I tried working it in, but it felt out of place no matter how I slotted it in. Glenn and Miklan are also roughly the same age as each other, but they don't have canon ages anyway.

Sylvain was fourteen. The windows were dark as he let himself into the house. His parents were out of town for their wedding anniversary. Miklan’s car had been in the drive, but the light in his room was off, which was odd.

Inside, soft light from the TV in the den spilled out into the dark hall. Miklan must have been watching a movie in the dark. As Sylvain drew closer, he could hear noises over the soft babble of the movie. Light gasps and moans. “Ah, fuck, _yes_ ,” he heard his brother practically growl. Sylvain felt his face flush. Miklan had a girl over.

He crept past the den silently, averting his eyes because he _so_ did not want to see. Until a second voice halted him in his tracks. “Fuck, Miklan...” The voice was most definitely _not_ a girl. And it was familiar.

He stood frozen for a moment until the curiosity that tugged at his stomach drew him back. Glenn Fraldarius sat straddling Miklan’s lap on the sofa, his hands wound through locks of red hair as he ground his hips against Miklan’s, head thrown back and eyes closed. Miklan kneaded Glenn’s ass roughly, sucking marks into the lithe boy’s exposed neck.

Sylvain was _not_ meant to see this. Face surely bright red, he thawed from his shock and started creeping for the stairs. And, he would have made it, too, if not for-

 _Squeee-EEK_. A dog toy in the dark, the biggest obstacle of a teenager sneaking through the house at night. “Fuck!” he heard Miklan growl.

It was useless, but Sylvain ran, bolted toward the stairs. If he could get to his room, he could lock the door and Miklan would have to wait until morning if he wanted to beat the shit out of him for witnessing… whatever that was. And, by morning, maybe he would have calmed down enough that he couldn’t be bothered. Unlikely, but it had happened before.

But Miklan was faster than he was. He made it to the kitchen before his brother’s hand closed around his bicep and he was slammed against the refrigerator, the wind knocked from his lungs with a small ‘oof.’

The light flicked on, courtesy of Glenn. The boy’s eyes were wide, his dark hair ruffled and cheeks flushed pink. Dark marks bloomed over his neck from Miklan’s lips.

“You were supposed to be staying with Felix,” Miklan snapped, nails digging into Sylvain’s arms. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Felix got food poisoning,” Sylvain protested weakly. “I texted you an hour ago, which you would know if you hadn’t been too preoccupied to check your dumb phone.” Anger flashed in his brother’s eyes and he socked Sylvain in the stomach. Sylvain sagged from the pain, but stayed upright in Miklan’s grasp.

“Miklan…” Glenn scolded, soft blue eyes brimming with discomfort and concern. With a huff, Miklan let Sylvain go and backed up, running a hand roughly through his unkempt hair.

Sylvain panted, rubbing his stomach gingerly for a moment. “What is this?” he wondered once he could find his voice. “Are you two, like… dating?”

“You can’t fucking tell Mom and Dad,” Miklan warned, voice low and dangerous.

Glenn stepped forward, grabbing Miklan’s hand. The dark-haired boy drew in a steadying breath, eyes falling evenly on Sylvain’s. “Please, Sylvain, don’t tell Felix, either. If my dad finds out…”

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” he huffed. “You do you.” He started for the stairs, but paused on the first step. “Oh, and next time, maybe get a room.” A mug shattered against the wall over Sylvain’s head, and he scampered up the stairs.

Sylvain never told anyone what he’d seen. Miklan had left Sylvain to take the fall for breaking the mug and chipping the paint on the wall. Glenn broke things off a few months later, after Miklan was arrested for the second time.

Years later, Sylvain started replaying that memory in his mind, late at night. Only, instead of Miklan and Glenn, he wondered what it would be like to have Felix straddling his own hips, grinding down on him with his head tossed back. He got off to the thought more times than he was willing to admit.

Shame found him after. Felix was his best friend. Felix was straight. Jacking off to the thought of his best friend, based on the memory of walking in on both of their brothers fooling around? How creepy and pathetic was that?

So, Sylvain buried his misguided attraction between the legs of whatever girls he could convince to fuck him. To Felix’s face, he acted like nothing at all had changed, like he wasn’t cumming at night with Felix’s name unspoken on his lips. Once he graduated and moved about as far away as possible from all his family and friends, he would be able to get his shit together and get over his stupid crush. He hoped. Goddess, he hoped.

~OoO~

Dimitri frowned. “Won’t your dad be angry if he finds out you’re letting your brother stay with you?” he wondered, after Felix went and opened his stupid mouth during homeroom the next morning.

“Angry’s a bit of an understatement,” Sylvain admitted with a light laugh. Dimitri, naive and oblivious Dimitri, had never really noticed how bad Andrew Gautier's temper was. And after the accident, he had his own shit to worry about anyway.

“Besides,” Ingrid butted in between bites of her third breakfast bar, “don’t you kind of hate Miklan?”

“I don’t hate him… I mean, kinda. He’s still my brother.”

“He tried to kill you,” she reminded him with a frown.

“No, he _threatened_ to kill me,” he dismissed, splitting hairs for reasons he couldn’t really explain, even if he wanted to. “Once. And only because he was drunk. It was forever ago, and he went to counseling for years afterward.” Ingrid didn’t look too reassured.

“You haven’t talked to him in two years,” Felix added. “And he just got arrested again. You’re just asking for trouble. What happened to keeping your head down until graduation?”

Sylvain huffed in frustration. Leave it to his friends to give him the third degree the second he makes one questionable decision. “Guys, it’s just a couple of days.”

“What if he starts smoking pot in your house?” Ingrid pressed. “Your parents will definitely notice the smell when they get home.”

“It’s not like the cops gave him the pot back,” Sylvain scoffed. “He’s broke, he can’t exactly go buy more right now.”

“Unless he sells your shit for money,” Felix noted.

“He won’t do that, because he knows I wouldn’t hesitate to call the cops on him. I’ve done it before.” Specifically, when Miklan had _threatened_ to kill him… He pushed back the unwanted thought. “Besides, it’s Friday. I’ll be home all day tomorrow and Sunday, so this is literally the only time he’s going to be alone until Monday morning, and then he’ll be gone.”

Felix and Ingrid looked like they wanted to protest some more, but Dimitri cut them off. “If Sylvain says it’s okay, then perhaps we should listen to him,” he muttered, glancing warily at some of the other students who were giving them odd looks about their strange conversation.Besides, he was always trying to put out fires between his friends before they started, and if anything was likely to cause a fire, it was talking about Sylvain’s poor decision making process. “After all, he knows Miklan better than we do.”

The bell rang shortly after, sending them on their way to their various classes, and the day passed slowly. Sylvain opted to skip practice, knowing Coach Jeralt would be pissed and he’d pay for it come Monday. He sent his apology and bullshit excuse about an ongoing family emergency with Dedue, rather than Dimitri or Ingrid, as neither of them could lie to save their own lives.

Miklan was sprawled out Sylvain’s couch when he got home. He tossed a McDonald’s bag down on the coffee table, figuring he’d probably not had much to eat through the day, and Miklan dug in without so much as a thank-you. At very least, there was no tell-tale smell of pot lingering in the air, so that was promising.

“Any luck finding a place?”

“Nah, man, not yet.”

Sylvain arched an eyebrow. “Have you even tried?”

“I’ve been calling people all day, dude. Lay off.”

“Whatever. I’m serious, though, find a place by Monday morning, or you’re shit out of luck.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Miklan returned to his food as Sylvain settled in to do his homework. “Ugh, really man? You know I hate onions.”

Honestly, he’d entirely forgotten. “Pick them off like a big boy,” he huffed, not looking up from his screen.

“It still tastes like onion, though.”

“Fuck off. You don’t like it, starve.” Miklan grumbled, but kept any further complaints to himself. Sylvain buckled down, popping in earbuds to listen to some music while he worked, and started on an essay about Fódlan-Brigid relations he’d put off way too long. The hours passed by in a blur of bullshit and word-vomit.

The room was growing dark by the time Sylvain sat up and pulled out his earbuds, rolling his stiff shoulders and cracking his neck. His essay was just about finished, just needing some proof-reading. He turned to see Miklan passed out on the sofa, snoring lightly.

His stomach grumbled loudly. With a sigh, he got up and headed to the kitchen. Spaghetti was about the only thing he knew how to cook, so that was what was on the menu. It was pretty bland, all said and done.

Eventually Miklan woke up and wandered down to go out for a smoke. When he returned, the brothers ate mostly in silence. Miklan didn’t offer to help clean up after. Once the kitchen was back in order, Sylvain went back upstairs and the two idled away the evening watching crappy movies on Netflix.

The next morning passed slowly. Felix, Sylvain knew, would be over after fencing practice. Miklan wasn’t great company. They were very different people, after all, and found they had very little to talk about that didn’t revolve around their family or petty squabbling.

Finally, late in the afternoon, Sylvain got the text that Felix was on his way. With a sigh, he opened up the Pizza Hut app on his phone, placing an order to be delivered around the time Felix would get there. And, because he was such an awesome, generous brother, he ordered an extra pizza for Miklan. The petty side of him almost added onions to it, but he decided better of it.

He contented himself watching YouTube to kill time until the doorbell rang, either for Felix or for pizza. Sylvain raced down the stairs and opened the door to a very punctual pizza delivery man, laden with three boxes and three two-liters of pop. Sylvain paid the man and took his food, just in time to see Felix pull up the drive.

“How was fencing?” Sylvain asked as Felix invited himself in, joining him in the kitchen where he was busy filling glasses with ice.

“Fine.” Always so chatty.

“Do me a favor and grab some plates.” Felix huffed, but he did it. Sylvain didn’t even have to ask him to grab the pizzas off the counter, and the two headed up to Sylvain’s room.

They sat their food down on the coffee table. “Move it, Miklan,” Sylvain ordered. “Couch is ours now. You can sit in the computer chair.”

“You’re the boss,” he agreed easily.

“This one’s yours,” Sylvain added, handing him one of the boxes and a plate. “Don’t make a mess.”

“Would you stop acting like I’m a kid who’s gonna spill shit everywhere,” Miklan snapped. “I’m a grown-ass man.”

“A grown-ass man who already spilled ketchup on the couch.”

Miklan scowled, but didn’t argue, dragging the computer chair over to the couch and flopping down. Sylvain and Felix settled in their usual places on the sofa, digging into their food. “Been a while, Felix,” Miklan mused. Felix just grunted, already stuffing his face with his first slice of pizza. “How’s shit?”

“Fine.”

Miklan shot a confused glance at Sylvain, who just shrugged and said, “He’s always this crabby, it’s not just you.” Felix punched him in the arm. It must have been strange for Miklan, who knew Felix as an excitable, whiny kid, not a grumpy, scowling teenager.

Sylvain booted up the game, grabbing the controllers off the charger, and they got started. Felix, competitive to the core, was partial to fighting games. They took hurried bites during the loading screens, and started duking it out. Miklan watched in muted interest, devouring his pizza like a starved man.

“Hey, Felix,” he finally said, setting his plate to the side, “how’s Glenn?”

Sylvain’s fingers froze on the buttons and his character fell still. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Felix’s jaw clench, but he continued to wail on Sylvain’s motionless character without mercy. “Dead.”

Miklan blanched, glancing between the two of them, as if expecting one of them to say ‘psych.’ Neither of them did. “He’s… he’s dead?” Sylvain shot him a somber look, nodding just once. “What happened?”

For a moment, Felix said nothing, just continued his onslaught against Sylvain’s character. Felix never talked about his brother. “An accident, about a year and a half ago,” he finally muttered, voice strained as he fought to keep it even. “He and Dimitri had a fencing competition in Duscur. Mr. and Mrs. Blaiddyd went up with them. They were heading back to their hotel after. It was late. They were hit by a drunk driver. Dimitri was the only survivor.” Without warning, he elbowed Sylvain sharply in the ribs. “Dude, play.”

Sylvain’s fingers started moving, pressing random buttons – which, to be fair, wasn’t too different from how he usually played fighting games. He was surprised Felix had actually told Miklan the story, instead of just telling him to fuck off and making Sylvain explain later. Actually, Sylvain was pretty much that was the most he’d heard Felix say at once since it happened.

Felix used to wear his heart on his sleeve. Honestly, he had always been a bit of a cry-baby. After the accident, he changed so much. He closed himself off, started being rude and cold to those he used to be closest to, trying so hard to push everyone away. Of course, his friends refused to let that happen. It took a while before he would even speak to Dimitri, who had his own slew of trauma and guilt from the accident. Eventually, though, things settled into a new normal, and life went on.

Miklan was very quiet, staring down at the floor. “I’m sorry, man,” he said softly. “I had no idea.”

“Obviously.”

“Really, I’m sorry.”

“Tch, I don’t want your sympathy,” Felix spat. “And I certainly don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity-”

Felix cut him off. “Really? Then what’s it matter to you?” Miklan didn’t answer. “Just drop it.”

Things fell into an uncomfortable silence between them, just the sounds of the grunts and screams of their brawling characters on the screen to fill the emptiness. After a few minutes, Miklan stood, excusing himself to go smoke outside. Once he was gone, door closed behind him, Sylvain paused the game and sat his controller down.

Felix glared at him. “What are you doing?”

“You wanna talk about it?” Sylvain asked, already knowing the answer.

“No. Unpause the game.”

“Come on, man. I know you don’t like talking about it, but you kinda bit his head off. He didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t want his pity,” Felix repeated petulantly.

“Fe, have you considered that maybe he was _actually_ upset to hear what happened?”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Right. What’s he care?”

Sylvain licked his lips, torn. He had promised that he wouldn’t tell Felix, but it was a long time ago and Glenn was gone. It hardly mattered anymore. The dead don’t care if you break your promises. Felix was staring at him, eyebrow arched, waiting for Sylvain to spit out whatever he had to say. “Look, hear me out, okay?”

“Okay.”

“This was, like, four years ago, and the only reason I never told you was because Glenn asked me not to-”

“Dude, get to the fucking point.”

Sylvain drew in a deep breath. “Glenn and Miklan were… together for a while.” Felix’s face was unreadable. “Like _together_ together.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I accidentally walked in on them once. That’s how I found out.”

“Ridiculous.”

Sylvain sighed. “Look, he didn’t say anything because he was worried about your dad finding out he was into guys-”

“Not _that_ ,” Felix huffed. “I already knew that. I meant that he was with _Miklan_ , of all people. I would have thought he had higher standards than that.” Despite himself, Sylvain laughed. And, unless he was much mistaken, he though he could see the corners of Felix’s lips tug up just slightly.

“If standards mattered, you think I’d ever get laid?” Sylvain teased. “Who doesn’t dig guys who make poor life decisions?” Felix slugged him in the shoulder again, but things fell back to normal.

Miklan returned a while later, longer than it should have taken to smoke a cigarette, and he relaxed as he realized the tension he’d left behind had dissipated. They joked, took turns losing to Felix, and things were good.

Under it all, Sylvain couldn’t get small, nagging thoughts out his his head: _y_ _ou’ve always mooned over him, and you’ve never been subtle about checking out his ass._ Was that true, or was that just Miklan talking out his ass? Had Felix ever noticed? He’d never said anything about it. He kept glancing over at his friend, wondering what he would say if he knew. Would he be annoyed? Would he tell Sylvain to fuck off? Or worse… would he feel the same? Try as he might, Sylvain could not rid himself of these thought, running laps around his brain until he thought he might self-destruct.

Mercifully, he was granted a small respite when Felix headed off to the bathroom, leaving Sylvain and Miklan to play for the next match when he returned. “Man,” Miklan laughed, grinning that wolfish grin again, “you’ve got it _bad_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title: ilomilo by Billie Eilish


	3. This is the road to ruin, and we started at the end

_Man, you've got it_ bad.

“Shut up,” Sylvain huffed, cringing at the way he sounded like a sulking child, earning yet another boisterous laugh from his brother. “I don’t remember asking for your input.”

“Dude,” Miklan scoffed, “I’m just telling you because it’s _painful_ , watching you make goo-goo eyes when you think no one’s watching.”

“I do _not_ make goo-goo eyes.”

“Sure you don’t, bub.” Sylvain rolled his eyes. “Seriously, though, you should just rip off the band-aid and talk to him.”

“Or,” Sylvain protested, pointedly focusing on the characters on the screen as they punched and kicked each other, “I could _not_ do that, because that sounds like a terrible idea. And I really don’t want to talk to you about my love life, thanks.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Miklan scoffed.

“He could punch me and never talk to me again.” Sylvain shook his head, heaving out a heavy sigh. “Not happening.”

“You’re such a little bitch. Worst case, he gets uncomfortable, things are weird for a couple days, and then you both grow up and move on.” As if it would be that easy. “Best case, he’s into you, too, and you get some.”

“Because you’re such an expert on healthy relationships,” Sylvain muttered dryly.

Miklan ignored his jab. “If you’re too much of a pussy to talk to him, what exactly _do_ you plan to do?”

“Act like there’s nothing going on, graduate, and get over it once I’m in college.”

Miklan stared at him, baffled. “You are such a dumbass.” He looked like he was about to say more, but the door opened and Felix returned to his spot between them on the couch.

The night wore on before they realized it. Felix checked his phone and groaned. “Fuck, it’s late.”

“Aw, is the baby out past his curfew?” Miklan mocked, biting into a slice of cold pizza that had been forgotten for the past few hours.

Felix’s jaw tightened. “My dad doesn’t like me out driving when it’s late.” Realization dawned over Miklan’s face, and his teasing smile faded. Felix didn’t seem to care, however, and turned to Sylvain. “Care if I crash here?”

“Sure, dude… Except one of you will have to sleep on the floor.”

“Nah, man,” Miklan dismissed. “I’ll go sleep on the couch in the den.” His tone was casual, but there was mischief in his eyes.

“Thanks,” Felix muttered, already typing out a text to his dad.

Miklan gathered up his scarce belongings. He caught Sylvain’s eye as he opened the door, mouthing ‘talk to him, dumbass,’ before disappearing into the hall.

“Can I borrow something to wear?” Felix asked, pulling Sylvain from his thoughts. As usual, Felix was dressed in tight skinny jeans that always made Sylvain wondered how he could move, but also hugged his ass _just_ so, and a clean, black polo that stood stark against his pale skin. Not something that would be comfortable to sleep in.

“Uh, yeah. Of course.” Sylvain stood and started rummaging through the dresser. He was quite a bit taller than Felix, more broad in the chest and shoulders, so anything he had was sure to hang loose on the other boy. He did his best, however, returning with an old pair of sweatpants and a faded band tee from a concert they’d gone to their freshman year. He plopped a pillow and blanket down on the sofa and found his own pajamas.

Standing on opposite sides of the room, backs to each other, they changed. Sylvain couldn’t help but sneak peeks in the mirror that faced Felix’s direction, catching glimpses of lithe, muscular shoulders and clean, blue briefs. He tried to pretend the sight of Felix in his clothes wasn’t doing something for him, and quickly turned off the light before climbing into bed.

Felix stretched out on the sofa, and all Sylvain could see of him was the angle of his nose, lit up pale blue by his phone’s screen as he browsed his social media before bed. Sylvain tried to do the same, but kept glancing over despite there not being much to see in the dark.

Felix’s voice cut through the dark very suddenly. “You didn’t lock the door.”

“Why would I do that?” Sylvain wondered, confused.

“You used to, when Miklan lived here.” Sylvain’s stomach rolled. “You sure he’s not going to try and kill us in our sleep?”

Sylvain rolled his eyes. “He’s never tried to kill anyone in their sleep, so I think we’re safe.”

Felix scoffed. “He still… _threatened_ to kill you, though. Are going to act like you haven’t been worried about that since you brought him here?”

“I’m not worried,” Sylvain huffed. “Like I said, that was once, like six years ago. He was drunk. He had counseling, and I’ve never seen him drink after that happened.”

Felix was silent long enough that Sylvain thought the conversation was done. “Why do you keep making excuses for him?” There wasn’t judgment in his tone, just curiosity. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

Sylvain swallowed hard. Is that what he was doing? Making excuses? “I owe him.”

“Tch, for what? It seems like you’ve always done more for him than he’s ever done for you.”

To Felix, it probably did seem that way, he supposed. There were some secrets Sylvain had kept, even from his friends. He couldn’t expect him to understand. “Look,” he sighed, trying to find the words. “He did something for me, before Dad kicked him out, and I never got to repay him for it. It’s just never sat right with me.” He tried to ignore the rolling in his stomach at the thought.

“If you say so, dude.” The light from Felix’s phone went off, and he heard shuffling as Felix rolled over. With so many unpleasant memories at the forefront of his mind, Sylvain faded into a restless sleep.

~OoO~

Miklan wasn’t supposed to have friends over when their parents were away. Sylvain, twelve, watched from the doorway as the older boys on the back porch laughed and yelled. He didn’t like Miklan’s friends. They were rude, and loud, and Miklan was more mean to Sylvain when they were around than he usually was.

The older boys took swigs out of bottles of alcohol they bragged about stealing from their parents and passed around a joint. It was getting late, and their parents would be home soon. Then Miklan would get in so much trouble.

Miklan seemed to realize that too, and he finally made his friends leave. They grumbled and complained, but piled into a car. Sylvain watched nervously through the window as the backed down the driveway, driven by the one they had deemed ‘least trashed.’ He hoped they didn’t get hurt, or hurt anybody.

Miklan headed into the kitchen and started rooting through the refrigerator. “Your friends are gonna get in lots of trouble,” Sylvain told him matter-of-factly. Miklan just grunted. “People aren’t s'posed to drive when they drink. It’s bad.”

“You gonna rat them out, you little nark?” Miklan’s words were slurred, and he wobbled as he turned toward Sylvain.

Sylvain wasn’t sure what a nark was, but it sounded like an insult. “What if they get in a car crash and die?”

“They’ll be fine,” he huffed, moving to shove the boy. “Fuck off.” Sylvain reeled back, shoulder crashing against the cabinets, pain shooting through his arm.

Sylvain glared up his brother. “I’m telling,” he spat, rubbing his sore shoulder.

Something changed in Miklan’s glazed eyes, an anger that Sylvain had never seen before. He took an involuntary step back as Miklan stumbled toward him. “Keep your mouth shut,” Miklan growled.

Sylvain scrabbled away. “No, you’re being a jerk.”

He didn’t expect it when Miklan pulled a knife out of the sink. “You keep your fucking mouth shut,” he warned.

Sylvain trembled, trying to put distance between himself and his brother, even as the older boy lumbered toward him. “Miklan, stop. You’re scaring me.” Miklan didn’t seem to be listening.

Heart pounding in his chest, Sylvain’s eyes darted around him, looking for something, _anything_ that could help him. His eyes fell on the cordless phone on the counter. “Don’t you even think about it.”

He did more than think about it; he darted for the phone. Miklan lashed out with his empty fist, but caught only air. Sylvain’s hand closed around the phone and he dashed out of the kitchen. Miklan crashed through the hall behind him. Once, his brother’s fingers ghosted through Sylvain’s hair as he scrambled to grab the boy, but his lacking coordination set him stumbling.

Sylvain locked himself in the bathroom. He froze, Miklan’s hand beating on the door sounding like the pounding of his heart in his ears. He could hear slurred insults and threats muffled through the wood. "Open the fucking door, Sylvain! Don't you fucking call Mom and Dad! I'll kill you!" Staring at the phone in his hand, Sylvain dialed slowly and held the phone to his ear. He did not call Mom and Dad.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

Their parents pulled in as an officer was guiding Miklan into the back of a police car. Another officer sat with Sylvain, trying to keep the boy calm. And, while none of them realized it at the time, that night was the beginning of the end for Miklan.

~OoO~

Felix was still asleep when Sylvain finally pushed himself up the next morning. Weak light filtered through the window over the boy sleeping on the couch. The blanket was tangled around his legs, and he had one arm behind his head, the other handing limply over the side of the couch. A sliver of creamy skin was visible where his shirt was hiked up, showing defined abs from his years of fencing. His hair was a disaster, long inky strands sticking out this way and that, framing his angular face. His lips were parted slightly as he snored softly, a trickle of drool running down his chin.

Sylvain found himself plagued by thoughts of kissing those soft, thin lips until Felix woke, slowly blinking his amber eyes as he realized what was happening. He groaned softly, trying to push away the traitorous thoughts, trying to ignore the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach.

“Why are you staring at me?” Felix hissed sharply, making Sylvain start. He’d been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed Felix stir, hadn’t noticed his eyes crack open. The amber he’d just fantasized about now burned through him.

“You’re drooling like a baby,” Sylvain shot back, not missing a beat. Felix jerked his head away as he ran a hand over his chin. He scowled down at his hand, glancing around himself for a moment, before settling for wiping it on his borrowed shirt. “Dude, gross.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Leftover pizza,” Sylvain told him with a smirk, earning a scowl. He barely stopped himself from making a joke about only making breakfast for those who woke up in his bed; considering he’d just been caught staring, he didn’t think it would go over well.

After some grumbling and yawning, they pulled themselves out from under their respective blankets and got dressed, Felix returning to the tight jeans and black polo, and Sylvain digging out something clean from his dresser. With their leftovers in hand, they headed down to the kitchen.

Miklan was already awake, sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal. “Good news, bro,” he announced, grinning. “I found a place to crash with a buddy of mine. Just a couple hours, and I’ll finally be out of your hair.”

“Thank the Goddess,” Sylvain muttered, setting his pizza on a plate and popping it into the microwave. Miklan rolled his eyes. When Felix’s back was turned, he arched an eyebrow at Sylvain, and it wasn’t hard to guess the meaning. Sylvain flipped him off as an answer.

The three ate their breakfast in silence, and Sylvain tried his hardest to ignore the pointed glances Miklan was shooting him. “Hey, I’m gonna take a shower real quick,” Miklan said after draining the last of the milk from his bowl, already standing and heading out of the kitchen.

Sylvain let his shoulders slump once his brother was out of the room. “Hey, I meant to ask last night,” Felix muttered, not looking up from his phone, “did you understand the Calc worksheet?”

Sylvain rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Can I copy it?”

“Yeah, man, sure.” They headed back upstairs and pulled out the worksheet in question. Felix was silent as he read over Sylvain’s paper, meticulously copying out the work and the answers.

A few minutes passed in silence, and Sylvain heard footsteps on the stairs, Miklan already finished with his shower. The door opened, and Sylvain’s blood turned to ice in his veins when he realized it was _not_ Miklan standing in the doorway.

His father glared down at him, arms crossed. _Fuck._ “I thought I told you not to have anyone over while we were gone,” the man said slowly, voice even and dangerous.

Sylvain licked his lips. “I know.”

His father’s eyes fell on Felix, sitting rigidly next to Sylvain, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Felix, you should go.” The boy stood without a word, stowing his things back in his bag haphazardly and practically sprinting across the room. He spared a last, worried look over Mr. Gautier’s shoulder before disappearing.

Sylvain was silent under his father’s gaze, eyes flicking between the floor and the man’s cold eyes. It would just be a matter of minutes until he realized Miklan was there, and shit _really_ hit the fan. “You came back early,” he noted, unable to stand the silence any longer.

“I got a call from Alois across the street. He was concerned because he saw you outside _smoking_ all weekend.”

Sylvain’s brow furrowed. “I wasn’t smoking-” Then he realized. _Miklan_ had been smoking. He hadn’t considered that friendly Mr. Rangeld would rat him out to his dad, but he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised.

His father crossed the room slowly, stooping to pick up the pack of menthols that Miklan had left on the coffee table. “Then what are these?” He couldn’t answer. There was no answer he could give that would end well for him. “I thought you were smarter than this, Sylvain.”

Sylvain was spared having to say anything by his mother coming up behind his father, her brow furrowed. “Sylvain? I thought I just heard you in the shower?”

“Who else is here, Sylvain?” his father demanded. Sylvain didn’t answer, just stared at the floor. “Now, son.”

His voice was very small when he finally found it. “Miklan.”

Emotions cycled over his father’s face in quick succession before settling on anger. For a moment, Sylvain thought he was going to reach over the table and hit him, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned without a word, red in the face, and marched out. His mother shot him a sad, weary glance before rushing off after him. After a moment of indecision, Sylvain followed.

They waited in front of the bathroom door, his father angry, mother concerned, and Sylvain miserable. He leaned heavily on the wall, wishing not for the first time that he could have been just about anyone else in the world instead of Sylvain Jose Gautier.

His father rapped sharply on the door. “Fuck off,” Miklan barked, “I’ll be out in a minute.” The moments passed agonizingly slow, just to torment Sylvain. Eventually, the door opened, and Miklan stepped out, towel wrapped around his waist, chest bare, hair dripping wet and matted down. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes going wide as he took in the scene in front of him. “Fuck.”

“Get dressed, Miklan,” his father ordered. “I think we should talk.”

He nodded slowly before edging his way past the man, shooting an apologetic look to Sylvain as he went. Sylvain obediently followed his parents down to the den, sinking onto the sofa and praying he would sink right through it. No such luck. His father paced back and forth, and his mother stood in the doorway, fussing with the ends of her auburn hair.

Miklan slid in silently and took a seat next to Sylvain. Sylvain was reminded of the countless times similar scenes played out during their childhood, both boys sitting stiff on the couch with their heads down, afraid of their father’s anger.

Their father stopped pacing, eyes darting back and forth between them. “Why did you let him in our house, Sylvain?” he finally asked, voice surprisingly – and deceptively – calm. Sylvain didn’t speak. “Answer me.”

Sylvain sighed, not looking up. “He needed a place to stay for a couple days. I was just trying to help him out.”

“This have anything to do with him getting arrested _again_?” The boys shared a sidelong glance. “Yeah, I know about that, Miklan. Captain Charon and I talk.”

“Don’t take this out on Sylvain,” Miklan said evenly. “It’s not his fault. I put him in a bad spot, and I shouldn’t have. He’s a good kid.”

Their father ignored him. “Sylvain, look at me.” Slowly, he did as he was told. “You know the rules. You know what we expect of you. Do you want to end up like him?” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the way Miklan’s shoulders stiffened. “Because that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t shape up.” His father didn’t give him a chance to speak for himself, just kept ranting about Miklan’s shitty life choices and why it was better for Sylvain to cut him out of his life. His tangent ended with a cherry on top. “And you know he wouldn’t do the same for you, if the roles were switched.”

Sylvain couldn’t hold his tongue. “You’re wrong,” he spat. The old guilt he’d felt for all those years clawed at his stomach.

“What did you say to me?”

“I said you’re wrong.”

“Dude,” Miklan hissed, staring at Sylvain like he’d grown a second head, “shut up.” He didn’t think he could, even if he wanted to.

Their father stalked closer, bending down until he was right in Sylvain’s face. “How do you figure? What’s Miklan ever done for you, besides try and drag you down with him?”

Sylvain swallowed. He could see Miklan shaking his head, trying to get him to back down, but he couldn’t; he’d bottled it up long enough. “When he got arrested three years ago, he took the blame for me.”

Whatever his father had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. His back straightened as if an electric current had passed through him, and he stared in disbelief between the boys. “Come again?”

“Dude, what are you doing?” Miklan sighed.

“The weed he got arrested with was mine,” he admitted, feeling the weight of three years of shame lift off his shoulders. “When the cops busted up that party, he told them my backpack was his.”

Sylvain had been terrified that night. While he’d never liked Miklan’s friends, a party was a party. He had emptied his school work out of his bag in the back seat of Miklan’s car and filled it with snacks. Sylvain had been fifteen, just looking for a good time, and it was hardly the first time he’d smoked with the older boys. When the cops came because of a noise complaint, they found a bunch of stupid teenagers drinking. A couple of the boys had already started passing around a joint. And, while Sylvain and Miklan hadn’t been among them, bags were searched and pot was found.

“You’re a dumbass,” Miklan muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Their parents were speechless in front of them. Suddenly, their squeaky-clean golden boy wasn’t looking so golden. Finally, their father found his voice. “Miklan, get out of my house. Sylvain, go to your room.” Both boys obeyed without another word. All said and done, the whole thing could have gone a _lot_ worse.

~OoO~

Sylvain was grounded into oblivion, of course. His father came into his room later that day and pulled all the cords for his various devices. Sylvain protested the loss of his laptop, as most of his homework was done online. If he needed to do his homework, his father told him, he would have to do it in his father’s office, under his direct supervision, since _obviously_ he couldn’t be trusted. He was to go to school, go to practice, and come straight home. At home, once his homework was done, he was given a never-ending list of chores. He didn’t complain.

Two months passed before his punishment was lifted. He returned to his bedroom after practice to find a tangled mass of cords tossed on his coffee table, along with his phone. There was a sticky note stuck to the screen. _Your new phone number_ , the note explained in his father’s tidy handwriting. His stomach sank as he flipped through his contacts. Sure enough, Miklan’s number was suspiciously absent. With a sigh, he tossed it on the couch and set to work reattaching the litany of cords.

A couple weeks after getting his phone back, Felix found Sylvain in the hall before the morning bell, chatting with Khalid. Sylvain had hit it off with the Almyran transfer student the year before – he had been studying the Almyran language since freshman year when he decided that he was going to go to U of A, and Khalid was the only native Almyran speaker he’d met to practice the language with. Seeing Felix, nose practically pressed against his phone screen while he waited, Sylvain excused himself and started walking to homeroom with the raven-haired boy.

“Got something for you,” Felix muttered, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket.

Sylvain unfolded it. “Uh, I’m flattered, but I’m pretty sure I already have your number, Fe," he teased

“Tch, it’s not mine,” Felix huffed. “It’s from your brother.”

Sylvain’s brow furrowed. “When did you get my brother’s number?”

“He stopped by my house the other day. He was worried, since you weren’t answering his texts.”

“Oh,” he muttered, unable to think of anything say. “Thanks, man. I’ll text him later.”

Felix just nodded, absorbed by whatever he was doing on his phone. “Come on, we’re going to be late.” They picked up the pace, walking side by side.

Sylvain cast a sidelong glance at Felix as they walked. “Oh. My. Goddess,” he muttered when he saw Felix’s face. The dark-haired boy tore his eyes from his phone long enough to arch a thin eyebrow, a silent question. “Incredible. For a moment there, I could have sworn you were… _smiling_.”

“Shut up,” Felix huffed, elbowing Sylvain in the ribs, the slight smile not leaving his lips.

“Who are you texting that’s got you in such a good mood?”

“Annette,” he admitted, sounding rather sheepish. “I… I’ve been thinking about asking her out.”

If there was a soundtrack to Sylvain’s life, that moment would have been punctuated by the sound of shattering glass. Any slight hope or fantasy about Felix possibly reciprocating was thoroughly dashed, ground into the dirt. “Really?” Sylvain managed, trying to keep his voice even and unaffected.

“Well, I’ve been waiting for somebody else to show some interest,” he sighed, not looking at Sylvain, “but I’m not sure that’s ever going to happen.” He shrugged. “I’m not going to wait forever, you know. And Annette’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah. She is.”

Felix glanced up, scrutinizing Sylvain. “What do you think?”

It hurt. He knew it was stupid, he knew it was going to happen, but it hurt. “I think…" _I think I'm jealous and I think you're gorgeous and I think I should ask you out now before I miss my chance forever..._ "I think you should go for it.”

It was wishful thinking that saw Felix’s lips tug down slightly in a frown. It was wishful thinking that colored Felix’s voice with a touch of disappointment when he said, “You do?”

“Yeah, man.” Forcing a broad smile, Sylvain threw an arm over Felix’s shoulder. “You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title: Alone Together by Fall Out Boy


End file.
